


Bower Birds

by Maloreiy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romantic Fluff, S&R:CRW, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maloreiy/pseuds/Maloreiy
Summary: Neville Longbottom has received notice that the Ministry has instituted a new law and will be picking out a bride for him. To tell the truth, he's actually very pleased to have the decision out of his hands. A sweet little Neville/Luna Marriage Law story.





	Bower Birds

Today was the day.

Neville Longbottom took one last glance around his modest home. He'd spent the last four weeks rushing around trying to make it look presentable. His normal tendency was to leave things lying around untended, just this side of 'forgotten' if the truth be told. Since it was just him living in the cozy cottage, having left his grandmother's home soon after graduating from Hogwarts, he didn't often worry about what others might think of his living space.

Occasionally he had friends come over, but as the least important and least impressive of all of his friends, his home was rarely the center of attention. The big flashy parties were always held at Malfoy Manor, and it never failed to surprise him when he stepped over the threshold that Hermione had managed to make it be almost as welcoming as it was imposing. The casual cozy get-togethers were always held at the Potters' house with the kids running around underfoot. And of course, there were the frequent invitations to the Burrow, where the whole extended-gang tended to gather at least once a month.

Neville didn't fool himself into thinking he was really part of that elevated circle. He was welcomed, and with affection, but the Golden Trio and their respective spouses all shined a bit too brightly for him. He was just quiet, clumsy Neville Longbottom, Herbologist. His actions in the war reminded everyone that he was sorted into Gryffindor House for a reason, and though memories of that time always made him queasy, he took a quiet pride in how he had held fast during that dark time at Hogwarts, and he had certainly come through in the end.

But now he was content to live quietly in his country cottage, tend his plants, and sometimes socialize with his friends.

The last few weeks, though, his beloved plants had almost been neglected, as for the first time since he'd set up home, he systematically began cleaning and clearing and repairing and remodeling everything that needed attention. The outside of the house had a fresh magical tinting, with colorful window boxes filled with bright, cheery flowers. The fireplace had been carefully cleared, and any tiny residents had been expelled, along with the one very large bat that had chased Neville around the house until he'd finally gotten one of the doors open and used his wand to conjure a wind to whoosh the squatter out.

The kitchen was sparkling clean; the floor was freshly mopped. The missing pieces of china and silverware had been replaced so he had full sets of everything. Of course, they didn't exactly match, but he thought the patterns were charming in the way they were all different. Along with that theme, the dining table had been fixed so it didn't wobble, and the broken chair had finally been repaired.

Such simple things that Neville could have done a long time ago with a few waves of his wand, but he simply hadn't noticed until he'd received the missive by owl that had caused him to look on his surroundings with a fresh eye.

As he turned to leave, he tried not to look down the hall into the room that had the door open. His bedroom had undergone the most change. He knew that what he would see was a brand new quilt, hand-pieced by his grandmother, on top of the bed that was twice as big as the small one he'd been used to sleeping on. The curtains over the windows were clean and new, a cheery bright blue that made him think of the sky, where he'd simply hung a blanket over a rod before. He was actually beginning to like the ease with which he could open and close the curtains to let in the morning sunlight.

The room was more than big enough for the changes. Besides the larger bed, it also had to accommodate an extra night stand and an extra dresser. His dresser was an antique, an heirloom of the Longbottom family. He'd never wondered if there were matching pieces, but when he'd haltingly asked Gran if there was any of the furniture he could use to prepare his room, she'd taken him into the magical attic and unerringly found the drawers set that matched his own. In addition, there was a lovely white vanity table with a matching mirror that Neville was particularly struck by and he insisted on bringing it home where it fit perfectly in the corner nearest the window.

Over the last few weeks, it had pleased him to look around his room and wonder. Wonder what his life would be like, how it would change…who would share it with him.

He shivered a bit at that thought, as he always did when he stopped to think on the future.

Well, the future was here. Today was the day.

The last thing he did before leaving was he carefully scooped up the little potted Arnica. He'd been meticulously cultivating it for the last several weeks. It was a rare strain with a two-tone flower, somehow both delicate and bold. He was pleased to see that it had its first bloom just in time for him to present it to his bride-to-be.

Once he found out who she was, of course.

~~~ooo~~~

The waiting room at the Ministry was a bit stuffy and oppressive. There were other blokes sitting around looking anxious, though no one Neville recognized. There were a couple of wizards who actually looked incredibly angry and more than once Neville's wand arm twitched towards his wand, wondering if he would be needed if violence broke out.

He found it curious that there were no witches there. Perhaps they were being kept elsewhere. Or perhaps they would be meeting their wizards in another location.

When Neville had first received the letter in the post detailing the Ministry's plans for the Marriage Law and his expected participation, he had felt the same initial dismay that the rest of the participants had no doubt felt. No one likes to think of the Wizarding World being at risk because of low population. But almost as soon as that thought had receded, he was filled with a profound sense of relief. The Ministry, through a complex procedure involving Arithmancy, the Sorting Hat, and some powerful charms, was going to choose a wife for him.

Instead of going on a hundred dates where he felt awkward and foolish and went home quietly miserable—trying unsuccessfully to find someone with whom he could start a lasting relationship—there would be only one woman. One witch who was pre-determined to be his wife, who was chosen by the best experts the Wizarding World had to offer as being a match for him.

At a dinner soon after he'd received the letter, his friends scoffed about the Marriage Law and the unfairness which required wizards and witches of a certain age to be forced into marriage. Hermione was particularly incensed, though the others all convinced her that it wasn't a terribly unusual situation as arranged marriages used to be quite common in the Wizarding World. The fact that purebloods had the option to be matched with other purebloods first, sent Hermione into another rant about prejudiced, outdated social structures. Sometimes Neville thought Draco brought these subjects up on purpose because he liked to get his wife riled up, and the highly amused smirk that adorned his pale, pointy face seemed to confirm that idea.

Neville himself had said very little, shrugging off most of the questions that were posed to him. They were all married already, and so happy being in love that he didn't think they would understand that he was actually looking forward to having this question about his future laid to rest.

They thought it was ripping away his opportunity to fall madly, passionately in love. He saw it as an opportunity to quietly and gently descend into love.

Looking around the waiting area again, he noticed that he was the only one who seemed to be carrying a gift. The Arnica with its scarlet ribbon wrapped around the pot sat on Neville's lap and stood out starkly against the atmosphere that seemed both heavy and empty. He ought to put it on the floor, but after so much time he'd spent trying to get the rare plant to thrive in the pot, he was afraid to set it down and risk traumatizing it by exposure to one of the other occupants of the room.

A man nearby began muttering under his breath, his hand covering his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose like he was staving off a headache. Neville tried not looking around at all of the others. The more he looked at the unhappiness around him, the more the worry and dread started to gnaw at his gut.

There were a few voices from his childhood that he had never quite managed to silence. They told him that he was a disappointment, that he was embarrassing, that he was a poor excuse for a wizard. Most of the time he could ignore them. He'd grown up and achieved quite a bit in his field, and almost no one ever remembered him as that awkward Gryffindor who messed up every spell he tried. Even Gran was proud of him, and Merlin knew he'd once despaired of ever earning her approval. But sometimes, like now, when suddenly his future was looming huge in front of him, he felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach at the thought that maybe he really was just the same Neville Longbottom that spent his first ride on the Hogwarts Express looking for his toad, and then forgot to wear his robes on a school day.

He shook his head to clear it. He wouldn't think that way.

It seemed that most of the wizards who had been in the room when he arrived had already been called in while he had sat brooding. He didn't mind waiting; had expected it, actually, considering he'd come in ridiculously early. Better to be waiting here than sitting at home agitatedly tapping his fingers on his dining room table trying not to muss up anything in his house.

It occurred to him suddenly that none of the blokes ever came back out. He let out a sharp bark of laughter at that, ludicrous images of the Ministry offing this generation's bachelors dancing around in his head. Obviously, they must be going out through another door.

The Ministry probably didn't want any of the distraught couples to exit back into the waiting area, cluttering up everyone's hopes with their crying and their screams of defiance.

He wondered, for the thousandth time, what kind of a witch they could possibly have paired him up with. And for the thousandth time, he failed to picture anything, completely unable to guess what a woman for Neville Longbottom might be like.

Perhaps that's why he'd struggled so much in the dating scene. Women had seen him as cute and cuddly, sometimes a little needy. They'd wanted sophisticated and clever, but all he had was kindness and courage that came in 30-second spurts.

He hadn't known what he was looking for, only that he hadn't found it. Or perhaps she hadn't found him.

He rather thought he'd be content with a woman who was simple and easy to be around. He didn't much care if she had a career or wanted to stay and care for the home, or both at the same time. But he liked thinking that at the end of the day, they'd both be in the same place. And he wouldn't be alone. And neither would she.

Maybe she would gasp with anxiety when he told her stories about the war. Maybe she would shed tears of compassion when he told her about his parents. He hoped she liked plants. He hoped she could learn to love him.

He already planned to love her.

"Neville Longbottom?" A suddenly too-loud voice echoed in his ears. He glanced quickly over at the witch behind the desk with the big Ministry logo on it.

"Present!" he answered automatically. His ears turned red as he tried to ignore the chuckles he heard around him.

The little old lady with the big folder that had led the other men away stood in the doorway, her arm indicating that he should enter.

He picked up his plant and with a deep breath he stood up and preceded the woman down the dark corridor. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him should have been ominous, but he was too caught up in the sound of his heart beating much too fast to notice it.

The white-haired woman walking beside him made a tut-tutting sound and asked, "Is that for your bride, dearie?"

Neville could only nod, his ability to speak having apparently been left behind in the waiting room. His mouth felt a bit numb. In fact, so did his feet.

"What a sweetheart you are!" she exclaimed. "Your girl is quite the lucky one!"

"Th-thanks," Neville just managed to stammer out as they entered a well-lit office.

He blinked against the sudden brightness, and looking around saw himself to be in a small circular room with several doors leading into it. A balding man of middle age sat behind a desk that was piled high with a huge stack of papers, frowning at the parchment he held in his hands. In the air above his left shoulder a rubber stamp hovered, and Neville wondered if it was a stamp to approve or to reject.

The idea that rejection was an option gave him a sudden bout of anxiety. What if they decided that he wasn't to be married after all? What if his genes were considered too difficult or too 'pure', as Hermione's theory of pureblood infertility suggested, to be able to pass on to the next generation? Could they prevent him from ever marrying or having children? Merlin, why hadn't he thought to ask before now?

The man behind the desk finally looked up and harrumphed as he saw Neville and his escort standing there. "Neville Longbottom?"

"Yes, sir," Neville answered, pleased when his voice came out stronger than he'd expected. He shifted the weight of the pot in his arms.

"Unusual. Yes, very unusual." These muttered words seemed to drift across the desk, causing Neville to feel a bit alarmed. As if the entire circumstance of coming to the Ministry to discover the identity of your future wife and bringing her a rare potted plant wasn't unusual enough.

"Well, son, everything's in order," the man told him, self-importantly. He passed a sheaf of parchment and a quill to him across the desktop. "Sign at the bottom that you're receiving the betrothal contract. Due to the unusual circumstances, you have 48 hours to fulfill the betrothal by having the Marriage Binding Spell performed on both parties while placing your left hands on the contract. Once completed, the marriage will be filed with the Ministry. If not completed, the contract will be voided and you'll have to apply back here for another."

Neville had signed for the contract while the official was speaking and was trying to skim the extremely small print for any sign of the identity of his intended. Perhaps it was his nervousness but the words seemed to wriggle in his view. He briefly regretted that he hadn't brought his spectacles with him.

"Why, hello Neville Longbottom!" The chipper voice behind him almost made his heart stop. As it was, he was pretty sure it fell to somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes, which he couldn't feel because his feet were still numb and getting number all the time.

He had instantly recognized the voice, and spent a futile second willing the identity of the woman behind him to not match the name that was now flashing in lights behind his eyes. So it took him a moment, the words in front of him completely forgotten, to convince his body to turn around.

There were two women. One was almost a twin to the white-haired lady who had walked him in, except her hair was streaked with greys and silvers.

The other one, the more important one, had hair that was a pale gold in the bright light, shimmering like there were fairy lights woven into it. Perhaps there were. Come to think of it, there were a few things festively woven in; he could catch glimpses of them when her hair shifted as she tilted to look up at him. Her soft, creamy skin was accented with just the barest hint of make-up, and she had a dreamy smile on her face—the same smile she wore whenever she greeted him at any of the variety of events they both frequented, as they had many of the same friends.

It was Luna Lovegood.

Luna who had known tragedy before she'd ever received her first wand. Luna who had been bullied horribly in school and still found the grace to stand up for the right things during that terrible year at Hogwarts. Luna who had been imprisoned in Malfoy Manor during the war and then somehow managed to be instrumental in taking down the Dark Lord. Luna who was as far from simple as it was possible to get.

Luna who had always been much too bright, and much too talented, and much too beautiful for the likes of Neville Longbottom.

He felt twin spurts of elation and despair. It would be so easy to love her. But surely impossible for her to love him back. There must be a mistake, a cruel sort of error that would dangle something so lovely in front of him only to snatch it back because of something inane like the parchments getting mixed up.

A sense of dismay overwhelmed him as he thought of having only himself and the plant in his arms to offer to one Luna Lovegood, in the event that it wasn't a mistake.

"Hello, Luna," he finally managed, after staring at her for several long moments, trying to catch his breath. He hoped she hadn't seen all of the emotions flitting across his face. But Luna was ever so perceptive and so he rather thought he hoped in vain. "Fancy meeting you here."

The little old ladies tittered in amusement, and the official behind him made a harrumphing type of laughing sound. Luna just smiled widely at him.

~~~ooo~~~

They arrived at Luna's home by Floo. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened that way, as it wasn't at all how he'd planned. But when she'd asked him if the pot with the pretty flower was for her, and he'd awkwardly thrust it into her arms, she'd replied cheerily with, "I know just where to put it!" Then she'd taken his hand, and led him straight to the Floo, waving goodbye to the older witches who beamed at them.

He'd been overcome by the sensation of her soft hand grabbing his firmly, and so he hadn't thought to protest when she'd called out, "The Snuggery!" and jumped into the green flames. He'd just followed her, surprised to arrive in a fireplace that appeared to have been made with a brick pattern that looked suspiciously like a very large radish.

The misgiving that had been developing in the pit of his stomach continued to grow as Neville glanced around the small, cozy home. It was stacked everywhere with books, old copies of The Quibbler and half-finished crafts that appeared to be jewelry, weaponry or both.

Everything had distinct traces of Luna, from the hand-painted designs on the walls to the collection of Hogwarts mascot hats adorning statues of famous Ravenclaw witches.

What he didn't see, the fact of which felt rather like a sharp pricking pain deep in his lungs, was any evidence that Luna was going to leave her home. There was nothing to suggest that she'd spent the weeks since the Ministry owl had delivered its news, preparing to marry. The very snug little house couldn't possibly be big enough for two people (and a host of plants) to live comfortably, and yet neither were there boxes or materials to pack with that might indicate she had plans to move.

He shouldn't have felt such crushing disappointment. He'd tried not to believe that it was possible he could be so fortunate as to live in wedded bliss with Luna Lovegood, but clearly in the five minutes since she'd spoken his name in the office at the Ministry, his hopes had shot up far too high, only to be dashed immediately to the ground.

To Neville it seemed very obvious that Luna either had no intention of marrying, or she had figured on her marriage being in name only.

The scroll that contained their betrothal contract weighed heavily in his pocket as he watched Luna scamper over to a window and move a large pile of books from a small, delicate looking wooden table. With a flourish, she settled the Arnica and twisted it 73 degrees counterclockwise until it faced just the perfect light from the window.

Neville sighed. The herb would no doubt be very happy there. On the one hand, he was quite pleased that his future bride took such obvious pleasure in his gift and was so willing to make room in her life for the scarlet beribboned pot. On the other hand, he had wanted very much for his future bride to expend at least that much effort to make room in her life for him.

Perhaps she heard his sigh, because she turned to him and said, "Oh, how silly of me! I haven't offered you any tea, yet!"

~~~ooo~~~

Neville arrived at his home alone after an awkward conversation around Luna's dining table. She'd had to move aside a plateful of Moon Frog bait before serving the tea in tiny little cups that had required refilling a half-dozen times. Fortunately, they'd each had three of them, so he could fill his in rounds. Luna only drank from one of her three cups, taking turns pouring each cupful into it after it had been filled from the teapot.

She'd tried to make some pleasant small talk, but Neville had been poor company, struggling with his disappointment, and wondering how he was supposed to bring up the subject of marriage.

Late that night, while he laid alone in his too-large bed, he thought of her warm smile. She was so patient and gentle. When she looked at him, everything in his stomach turned into knots; but when she smiled, everything straightened out again.

He had always thought she was beautiful. Seeing her at the Ministry had been a shock. Seeing her in her home, in her element, had been a pleasure. He wished that somehow it was possible that he could see her as his wife.

But it was looking less and less likely that this marriage was truly meant to be. He resolved to get it sorted out the next day.

Of course, when he stood on her front steps the next afternoon, the 30-second spurt of courage that had finally gotten him to leave the house had already been spent, and so it took him five minutes to raise his hand to knock.

She answered almost right away, looking breathtakingly lovely in a wispy summer dress of bright yellow. Her face lit up when she saw him. "Neville Longbottom! Whyever didn't you take the Floo?"

Neville shrugged, not sure how to express into words the fact that he had felt Flooing directly into her home was an intimacy that was not granted to him.

He didn't deserve her. She deserved someone better. He'd been repeating the words all morning long, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing for her. She _did_ deserve someone better.

He blurted the words out in a rush. "You should ask to be paired with someone else. If we don't sign the contract by tomorrow, it will be voided, and you can petition the Ministry to match you up with another wizard. They are particularly concerned about matching up the purebloods, so I'm sure they'd be happy to find you another husband." He panted a bit afterwards, like he'd been running hard.

Luna just looked at him, her face composed, her hand resting on the still open door. "Perhaps you ought to come in," she finally said, stepping back so he could enter.

When they were seated again in the dining room, the same plateful of Moon Frog bait having become much more appealing to Moon Frogs overnight, Luna placed her hands carefully on the table. "You want me to find someone else to marry?"

Oh, a tricky question. It wasn't exactly a matter of wanting. He wanted the opposite, actually. But he didn't want—couldn't abide the thought—of marrying her only to live separate lives that continued to overlap only when they were invited to the same gatherings of their friends.

"I think you should ask for another wizard," he repeated.

Her face fell a little, and those silvery blue eyes that always seemed to pierce right into his soul, suddenly looked unbearably sad as she said quietly, "You don't want me." Even the flowers that were twined in her glossy hair seemed to wilt a little.

Neville tried not to gape at her. Her sadness felt like it was spiraling out of her and he almost imagined it reaching up to choke him. His throat felt too tight for words to pass through, but somehow he said, without even thinking, "How could anyone not want you?"

"You don't." A whisper he almost didn't hear.

She was so terribly wrong. "I…do," he admitted, the words seeming to echo off the walls eerily. "Of course I do." His heart was beating hard again from the force of saying aloud something he'd kept hidden for years in the secret corners of his heart.

Luna's hands were still folded in front of her, and she looked down at them as she asked her next question. "Why would you want me to find another husband to marry, then?"

How could he explain? He ran a hand through his hair, and then down his face. "Look, Luna, I'm a terrible catch. I'm Neville Longbottom. I spent five years at the bottom of every one of my classes except Herbology. I trip on my own feet. I'm boring and plain. My best moments are all behind me." He blinked rapidly, adding in a desperate voice, "I brought a woman a plant on her betrothal day."

"I like Engelbert. He suits me."

It took him a moment to realize she'd named the Arnica, but he was already continuing with the reasons why she needed to find someone else to fulfill the Marriage Law with. "You're Luna Lovegood. You're smart and talented. You're never boring or plain, you're always fascinating and so complex you make me dizzy with it. You're brave and good and kind and—and beautiful—and one day you're going to change the entire wizarding world." The truth of his words hit him rather hard all of a sudden. He finished, miserably, "You should try for another wizard, Luna. Someone who deserves you."

The last thing he expected to hear was her laughter, light and tinkling. It shook over him like fairy dust from the wings of a, well, fairy. He looked up to see her grinning at him, and his eyes followed her as she got up from the table to take the chair right beside him. From this close he could see the tiny freckles that dotted her nose, and he wondered before he could stop himself if she had freckles anywhere else.

She smiled up at him, then. That same dreamy smile she had always given him. She reached up to her hair, and carefully pulled out one of the little yellow flowers that was woven there. Taking his hand, she placed it in his open palm, and then closed his fingers over it.

He looked at his hand, and then at her in confusion. Her face was serious, but her eyes were bright and deep as she explained, "Neville Longbottom, don't you know that I picked you?"

"What?" Surely she didn't mean what he thought she meant.

"I chose you. I made it very clear to the Ministry that it was you I wanted to be paired with."

"You—you _asked_ to be married to me?" He gaped at her for real this time, his hand still holding tight around the flower that was tickling his palm. He couldn't get his thoughts to come together in an organized fashion. In his head, he pictured Luna wandering into the Minister of Magic's office, and writing his name down on a slip of parchment, placing it into a box marked, "Submit Husband Requests Here." The idea was ludicrous. She couldn't have chosen him, among all of the wizards she could have asked for.

She nodded solemnly, her eyes on his. "I didn't want to keep waiting for you to notice me."

"Wa—waiting? Waiting for me? You were—but, what for waiting me?" His words weren't making any sense.

Her lips quirked, just a bit, at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "You're awfully cute when you're confused."

For several long moments, all he could do was stare at her. Part of him was rather pleased to hear her call him 'cute' and was considering staying as confused as possible, for as long as possible. The much larger part of him wanted very desperately to _not_ be confused, but the gears in his mind just kept whirring around in circles. Could it be true? Luna Lovegood actually _asked_ to be paired up with Neville Longbottom?

He didn't know you could make requests. He assumed it would all be handled by their complicated magical algorithims. It was probably a good thing he didn't know that requests were possible, or he would have driven himself crazy wondering if he ought to try to submit a request, and if so, how he would choose who to request. Or worse, what if everyone requested someone except for him. No, no, it was much better that he didn't know.

One thought finally came clear in his mind. "But then why does it look like you intend to stay single?"

"What do you mean, Neville?"

He gestured around to her tiny little home that was still piled high with books, magical objects, and tools for researching magical creatures. It looked exactly the same as it did yesterday. "It's just—it looks obvious that you haven't made any plans to leave your home, unless you intended us to live here." He got the tiniest shiver down his spine when he said 'us.' It was unbelievable that he was discussing where he might live if he married Luna Lovegood. If it was true that she actually did want to marry him.

Luna glanced around the small room doubtfully, and said, "We could live here if you really wanted to, although The Snuggery is quite snug. You and your plants might feel cramped."

Neville was feeling confused again. "I would live here if that's what you want. I have a lovely home, also. We could consider living there." Her face brightened and the sudden beaming smile she shot at him distracted him for a moment. He had to recollect the point he was trying to make. "But Luna, it doesn't look like you've made preparations either way."

It was possible that she sensed the little bit of hurt and disbelief in his tone, because she cocked her head to the side and said in an eminently sensible manner, "Well, you haven't asked me to marry you, yet. I can't make any arrangements until you ask me, now can I?"

"But the Ministry already betrothed us," he pointed out.

She just nodded and agreed, "That's true, Neville Longbottom. I've already answered them. But you haven't asked me, so I can't answer you until you do. And I can't make arrangements to move out until you do. That would be quite presumptuous of me, wouldn't it?"

It didn't seem like there was anything for it, he would have to ask her to marry him. He wasn't sure why he thought this whole Marriage Law arrangement meant he was going to get out of asking the single most nerve-wracking question in the world. It was small comfort that she seemed inclined to answer in the affirmative. It would be just his luck to get all the way up to asking the question to his betrothed fiancée only to have her say no. Well, he supposed it was good he still had those spurts of Gryffindor courage.

He looked around the little room, and tried to figure out how he was going to have the space to get down on one knee, as would surely be the most appropriate. But then he remembered he didn't have a ring with him, and that was really quite an oversight. He'd not prepared at all for this outcome.

Sheepishly, he turned back to Luna and said, "Would you mind terribly if I went home for a moment? I seem to have forgotten something rather important there." He made as if he were going to walk right back out the door, his face already a bit red from how uncomfortable he felt. Part of him was still trying to process the amazing revelation that Luna might actually want to be married to him.

Luna stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait just a little, Neville Longbottom, and I'll come with you."

"To my house?"

She smiled serenely up at him, her warm hand still gently touching his arm and sending him tingles even through his knit cardigan jumper. "Of course! It's going to be my house, too, right?"

"Of course," he repeated. "Our house." There was a little stuttering, fluttering, dancing sensation in his chest at those words, and at the bright and pleased look on her face.

He stood near the door and watched as she left to her bedroom, presumably to gather her bag and whatever else Luna Lovegood carried with her at all times. Hopefully not the Moon Frog bait. She was back beside him with a tiny handbag that looked like it was handmade out of the fur of a pygmy puff. Or like it _was_ a pygmy puff with handles.

"Okay, I'm ready now." She took his arm, and he crooked it automatically, pureblood manners kicking in. It appeared that she expected him to do a side-along apparation to his home, so he took his wand out.

But before they could leave, she exclaimed, "Wait!"

Releasing his arm, she scrambled back around her dining table, and picked up the little potted plant with the festive scarlet ribbon. "I forgot Engelbert!"

She came back and looked up at him, the plant between them, and then reached for his arm again. Her smile was so big, and her eyes were so bright. He had the most momentous feeling as she stood there with him, waiting for him to take them both home for the first time. He was bringing home his bride, exactly as he'd been planning for these last four long weeks, but nothing else about this experience was what he had expected.

They landed in his living room with a crack. Normally he wouldn't apparate directly into his home, but he rather thought he'd like to impress her with how skilled he was. They didn't stumble a bit, though she did lean heavily into him because of the dizziness of being transported. Of course, then he realized that he probably should have taken her outside first and then carried her over the threshold. Perhaps the Ministry should have included some kind of guide pamphlet for new grooms.

"Uh, welcome home, Luna," he said, shyly. Her eyes had still been on his face, but they moved to look at her surroundings as she shifted Engelbert on her hip.

Neville knew that she could find no fault with his home. He'd made sure of it, and he was pleased that after yesterday's disappointment he hadn't messed up all of his careful preparations. The kitchen was still sparkling and clean. The living room with its comfortable couches was still dust-free and welcoming in the light that sifted through the curtains. And everywhere there were pretty little plants in various stages of bloom.

Luna's gaze lit on the empty stand that Engelbert had previously occupied, and with a glance at the plant in her arms, she carefully and ceremoniously returned it. "Home again, Engelbert! It was a fun trip, anyway, wasn't it?"

Then she was flitting about the rooms, greeting the other plants and pausing to exclaim over this fabric, or that piece of furniture. At the large bay window, she paused and gazed out. Neville knew that she would see the carefully tended gardens and the quaint little rock path that led to the arbor that was covered in fairy's breath blooms. She sighed, and the sounded settled into his stomach calming his nerves. He thought it meant that she could be happy here. Happy in this house, happy with him.

"I'll just—" he began, pointing towards the bedroom where he'd left the ring on his nightstand when he'd gone home the day before. He walked in and suddenly flicked a quick spell, horrified to realize he'd left that morning without even making his bed. The sound of Luna behind him made him jump, hoping she hadn't seen the flying covers.

"I love it!" she exclaimed, pushing past him to make her way over to the antique vanity. She admired the finish on the chest of drawers beside it, and stroked her hand down the silky soft curtains that moved only slightly in the breeze from the cracked window.

Neville felt a quiet pride that Luna seemed so enchanted with his home. He wouldn't have thought he'd prepared the house with any specific person in mind, but seeing her standing in the middle of his room making faces at herself in the mirror, he thought he couldn't imagine anyone else fitting so perfectly there with him.

Which reminded him, he still had a task to perform. He was determined to complete it, as the more moments Luna spent in his home, the more Neville was convinced that if for some reason she said no, his life would be unbearable. He'd ask her while she seemed so happy. He also reminded himself that Luna had said that she had picked him especially, for what reason he couldn't fathom. But surely she wouldn't just turn him down, then.

His movement over to the side of the bed where the little ring box and the betrothal contract laid caught her attention, and she looked over at him. Her eyes darted down to the now-perfectly-made bed, and Neville felt a streak of warmth hit his belly. He wondered if she was imagining them there in it, together. The air suddenly felt hotter than it had been just a moment ago.

Then Luna set her bag down onto the bed, and started rummaging around in it. When her arm disappeared up to her elbow, Neville realized that it must have Hermione's Undetectable Extension Charm on it. Now that he thought about it, it seemed all the girls did.

When her arm came back out, it was holding a giant fluffy pillow. One side was a dark Ravenclaw blue that perfectly matched the quilt his Gran had made. When she turned the pillow over, she turned to look at the window, and he realized that the other side was the exact same sky blue of the curtains.

With a laugh, she tossed it onto the bed, and watched as it landed sky side up.

Neville was smitten. She'd done it in less than 24 hours. There was a frothy, bubbly, sparkly feeling inside of him that he was almost entirely sure was a love that might have always been there, but which he was just now allowing himself to feel. He would not need the rest of his life to love her. He didn't even need the rest of the afternoon.

"Luna?" he asked, to get her attention, and she turned to look at him.

With the ring in one hand, he approached her and knelt right at her sandal-clad feet, taking the briefest moment to admire how pretty her little yellow painted toes were. He held the ring up, and looked up into her dreamy silvery-blue eyes that focused on him in pleasure. "Luna Lovegood?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her hands clasped together in excitement. "Present!"

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a bit crooked on his face, and his slightly shaking hand firmed up just a smidge. "Luna Lovegood, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

With her hands still together and her eyes shining, her response wasn't quite what he expected. "You mean today?" she asked.

"Er," he paused, the ring still held out a bit awkwardly. "Or tomorrow, if you'd prefer. We still have a little more time before the betrothal contract expires." His rising sense of euphoria had deflated a bit at her practical question. He was sort of hoping for some kind of affirmative.

Instead, she knelt down onto the ground with him, the skirt of her dress pooling around her. She delicately placed her hand around the one of his that held the ring. And she said, softly, "I'd rather marry you today, Neville Longbottom."

He couldn't help the smile on his face that seemed to reach from ear to ear as he looked at her and their hands together between them. He nodded and she grinned happily at him. Remembering the ring, he quickly grabbed her hand, shivering at the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, and slid it onto her finger, where she admired it.

"Bower birds," she observed. "How appropriate!"

The little gold band was in the shape of two birds entwined. It wasn't particularly flashy, and didn't have large, gaudy gems on it, but the engraving and scrollwork was intricate and beautiful. He'd thought to get something more expensive and impressive, but Hermione had firmly discouraged his first choices with the large magical stones on them. He was glad of the intervention now, because looking at the delicate and lovely band on his Luna's finger, he knew it was a perfect fit for the both of them.

Standing up, he pulled her to her feet, and after a moment lost staring at her with the happy grin on his face, he remembered the contract. Quickly, he gathered it back up and opened the parchment scroll to where they could clearly see the empty spaces that waited for their handprints. As he reached for his wand, the scroll suddenly started to sparkle golden and it hovered in the air.

Luna reached out to place her be-ringed hand softly on the parchment and it held steady beneath her touch. Neville's bigger hand was placed gently beside hers, and with his wand he performed the Binding Spell as per the instructions from the wizard at the Ministry.

"I, Neville Longbottom, bind myself—my heart, my soul, and my future—all that I am, and all that I could be—in love and in sacred matrimony to Luna Lovegood." He felt something stir inside of him, as if the words had been shaped from a piece of himself. As he spoke them, he could feel the truth in them, witnessed and confirmed by the magic of the spell.

When she repeated the spell, her wand retrieved from where she'd kept it behind her ear, the parchment glowed and vanished, presumably to file their marriage immediately at the Ministry. And around their matched hands, a rope of gold magic sank into their skin to disappear amidst a flurry of sparks.

They were well and truly married now. Neville could hardly believe it. He, Neville Longbottom, had a wife. And she was Luna Lovegood. Who would have ever guessed?

"I think you're supposed to kiss me now," Luna said, surprising him. Then she closed her eyes, and tilted her face up at him.

He gaped at her for a moment, his hands suddenly breaking into a sweat. As he looked at her lips, he realized that he'd dreamed of doing that very thing for far too long, and his nerves buzzed at the thought of kissing his wife for the first time. He must have hesitated too long, staring at her, because she opened one eye as if to make sure he was still there, and then she closed it again.

He gently placed his hands on her waist, wondering momentarily if it wasn't more because he thought he was going to lose his balance than for any romantic reason. Very lightly, he touched his lips to her soft pink ones, and was startled at the jolt that was like a bolt of lightning buzzing all the way down to his toes.

After a brief shiny moment, he stepped back, and she sighed. Opening her eyes, she said breathily, "Well, that was nice!"

He blinked, considering, and then observed, "You must not have very much experience with kisses."

She shrugged, a smile still on her face. "No, only that time Padma kissed me."

Neville felt his eyes goggling so far out, he worried for a second they'd fall right out of his head. Luna didn't seem to notice as she continued. "Well, and Crookshanks kissed me once, too. But I was sleeping and don't remember it much. He might have just nudged me in the mouth with his nose, come to think of it. But this was much better than both of those!"

Neville was at a bit of a loss. On the one hand, he was quite pleased that he seemed to have the dubious honor of being her best kiss. On the other hand, it didn't seem to count for much when her previous kisses possibly didn't even exist.

She stepped forward then, her arms twining about his neck. He'd not quite let go of her waist, so it was easy for his hands to slip around towards her back. She tilted her head up again, and her eyes were so big and deep they were like falling upwards into the sky. "Again? Please?"

He couldn't refuse. Only this time he let that buzzing feeling travel throughout his limbs as his lips moved over hers. She tasted like fizzy apples, and his mouth moved more firmly, coaxing her to open to him. When her little tongue touched the tip of his, he felt light-headed, certain that she was the only thing holding him up.

The little moan she gave shot a thrill all the way down his spine. Take that, Padma! And Crookshanks. He didn't doubt that this single kiss was high on the list of the best kisses of all time for anyone.

Then her hands creeped up to twine into his hair, and his knees trembled. He was very acutely aware of the fact that they were in his bedroom, and only a couple of feet away from his bed—from _their_ bed. He tried not to think too hard about it, just enjoying the sensation of his wife in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the lovely smooth arch of her neck, marveling at how good she smelled and tasted. The sigh in his ears made him feel remarkably strong.

"Neville Longbottom, while this is a sexy cardie, I think I'd like to see it on the floor."

Her words, and the fluttering hands that knocked his cardigan off into a heap on the floor, sent a tickle up his spine. No one before had ever called a single garment of his sexy. It gave him a shocking burst of that 30-second courage he infrequently called upon.

His lips descended on hers again, delighting in the sudden squeaking sounds she made, as he kissed her fiercely, his hands tangling in her long golden hair, leaning her backwards towards the bed.

"Luna Longbottom, everything you wear is sexy," he mumbled against her mouth, hardly believing he was actually the one saying the words that were falling out of their own accord, "and I rather think I'd like to see it all on the floor." His fingers fumbled with her blouse, shaking as they encountered the smooth satin of her pale skin.

"Even my sunflower seed necklace?" she asked, breathily.

"No, you can keep that on," he told her. And she smiled up at him before his mouth claimed hers again.

~~~ooo~~~

Sleepily, Neville looked around his bedroom. He'd rarely seen it from this vantage point, lying in bed in the middle of the day. But the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the windows made everything seem warm and happy. He watched a couple of dust motes dancing in the shafts of light, and felt a happiness squeezing at his heart.

The naked body beside him squirmed a bit, and he tightened his hold. Luna lay wrapped in his arms, her hair spread out across the pillow, and a little bit in his face. He thought she smelled like fresh spring breezes. And sunflower seeds.

He almost couldn't believe what she'd said, what she'd done, what she felt. What she felt _for him_ , Neville Longbottom. He nuzzled into her hair, until his lips reached her neck, and he placed a little kiss there, sighing at the feel of her nestled against his skin.

She giggled, and he knew she was awake. When she turned until her eyes could meet his, he knew that whatever warm and gooey feeling that was in his expression when he looked at her was easy for her to see. He didn't much care.

He'd wanted a woman to love. He'd hoped that it wouldn't take too long for him to build a real relationship with whichever witch he was assigned to. He never thought he'd be falling headlong into love with the very witch he'd been hopelessly enamored of for years. His hands were still wrapped around the bare skin of her waist, and he took a moment to enjoy the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

She was so lovely. She was kinder than any Hufflepuff. And she was braver than any Gryffindor. And she liked plants. And, as unbelievable as it may seem, she liked him, too. Possibly even loved him, if the words she'd just recently breathed against his skin were anything to go by.

He was determined he was never going to let her go.

"Let me go!" she requested, struggling a little against his arms, her words breaking his reverie.

Startled, he let her break free. But he relaxed when she simply reached over to grab her wand, and then settled back into his arms, pulling the quilt up to her neck. The feel of her body sliding against his as she found her comfortable position reminded him of what they'd been doing in the bed just a short time ago, and he felt his sleepiness disappearing as his interest was quite suddenly renewed.

He almost didn't catch what she was doing with her wand, but it was hard to miss when the little silvery hare hopped joyfully around them and then sped off.

"What was that?" he asked, wondering who she was sending a message to.

"Oh," she said, with a yawn, "I'm just letting Hermione know that everything worked out. I'm sure she's been waiting to hear. I couldn't bear to send her anything yesterday."

He pondered that for a moment. "Is she the contact at the Ministry that helped you make the request?"

Luna giggled into the arm that was still around her, and twisted herself until she could look up at him. Her hair was making a wild halo around her head, courtesy of the number his hands had done on it, and he used his finger to move the loose strands from his face. "Oh no, silly. Hermione's the one that came up with the Marriage Law. Well, it was my idea, but she said it didn't sound believable when I wrote it, so she came up with all the details of the Law and the reasons for it and then had it all written on Ministry parchment."

It took a moment for Neville to process what she had just said. He blinked several times, trying to follow her rambling. She continued, chatting happily, "Draco came up with the bit about the purebloods. And Harry's the one that got a Ministry official to present us with the betrothal contract."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the thoughts in his head weren't making words, yet.

"Oh, Harry and Ginny!" she exclaimed, and sent off another Patronus message. This time the hare seemed to giggle as it whirled around and then bounded off to its intended recipients.

She looked up at him again, and arching her neck, she reached up to put a little kiss on the tip of his nose. "You're adorable when you're flummoxed."

"All this time?" he asked. "They all knew?"

She shrugged. "Well, if they all didn't know, they couldn't play along. And then you would have figured it out." She looked up at him a little bit shyly, taking in his still face. "Are you very angry?"

He raised one of his hands, and with his fingertips, he very gently ran it down the side of her face, while he admired the play of the light across her smooth skin. She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes.

"Never," he stated, knowing it couldn't be more true. "I could never be angry. I have everything I'd wanted right here. Love. Passion. A family. You give me all of those things."

She smiled at him, placing a short kiss on his lips.

"I think I might have been waiting for you," he whispered to her.

"Like the bower birds!" Her hand came up into view, a shaft of sunlight glinting off the gold band.

He hadn't really thought the shape of the birds on the ring was specific enough to identify them, but Luna seemed to be very positive.

"Did you know magical bower birds mate for life?" she asked him. He shook his head, knowing she would elaborate. "The male bower birds create a home for their mate. Warm twigs and sturdy leaves and colorful berries. He makes it nice and pretty and clean and then he waits for a female to come by. And when she does, he shows her everything she could have if only she stays with him." She looked up at him a little bit slyly and added, "I think maybe some of the males make their home especially with one female in mind so that when she comes by, his bower nest is irresistible to her."

He grinned into her hair as she settled her head against his shoulder again. "Well, Hermione is the one that gave the approval for the ring, so I can't take too much credit for it."

She laughed, and pressed a wet kiss to his bare chest, causing that tingling sensation again throughout his body. "I know, but that's why I told her to take you to that particular shop, after all."

Neville mentally added, 'More cunning than any Slytherin,' to his list of her attributes. She'd clearly gone through a lot of effort to wake him up to what was right in front of him. He had no reason to complain; none at all. So instead he set about making sure she was very well rewarded for her clearly considerable efforts.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a discussion in my Writers/Betas group about Marriage Law fanfictions. Normally people are very upset about being "stuck" with a Marriage Law. But there are many cultures that have arranged marriages and look forward to the marriage with hope and optimism. I had this idea about a character who wasn't fighting the law, but embracing it. And who better than sweet Neville and lovely Luna? I hope you all enjoyed this little one-shot. I don't usually write Lovebottom fanfiction, but I love these two characters. Special thanks to my betas jj24601 and artemisrose! (Originally posted on FFN.)
> 
> S&R Movement: CONSTRUCTIVE REVIEWS WELCOME (CRW)


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